FLOTILLA
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
her heart, once a crammed attic,
overflowing with yesterday’s dusty relics,
became a barren room.
each secret—a silent, fragile confession,
she scrawled on paper thin as skin,
slipped into the throat of antique glass.
a cardboard ark, ferrying her bottled truths,
down to the shore she walked,
where the sea sighs secrets of its own.
a flotilla of confessions and longing,
a bobbing armada of regret,
pushed by the tide—away, away, away.
she raised her hands in farewell
releasing all her burdens,
their echoes fading on salty winds
The cage creaks upward.
The ancient Otis,
ascends slowly from a first floor past.
He dreams on...
Outside the remembered apartment
the fat round nipple of the doorbell
reminds him of her -
Rosy Holroyd,
who once, without being asked,
shoved one of her large **** into his mouth.
He punches the doorbell with a flat thumb,
imagines her undressing,
getting those ample bosoms warmed up.
No response from behind the door!
He feels disorientated and foolish
as the dream once again sinks his hopes.
The cage creaks
as it jolts downward through decades.
Alone in the elevator; gradually awakening,
his lips open and purse
like a lonely goldfish.
And so I wrote another poem, love
Are there any regrets running through your mind,
Or was it just me all along?
You kept telling me it’s because of your idleness,
Yet I long for something more
And so I wrote another poem, love
Is there any pain in your heart,
Or was it just me all along?
You kept speaking of promises,
Yet you keep forgetting them
And so let me write another poem, love
There was a time you’d move the heavens and earth
You said that feeling was still real,
Yet your words are the only ones left here
And so let me write another poem, love
Is there anyone keeping you from chasing that dream,
Or was it me who wasn’t worth it?
You can run from here,
Yet you’re still staying
And so I wrote this poem, love
I am afraid of the things that don’t last
Just like this poem;
Expressed, but never spoken
At times this may be hard to do but must be done
It may be easier to do after considering a fight won
When it comes to moving forward the battle is within
You know your destination and where you have been
Doing this will require putting the past behind you
Forgetting about everything you see in your rearview
These steps helps you to get over your pain and hurt
Gradually you will start to see your greater worth
Never allow anyone or anything make you stand still
Push on to better days with bigger goals that are real
Constantly looking behind gives you no rewards
There's always hope in the steps of moving forward
I’m of the liberal limousine set
Voting for Cortez for POTUS, you bet ~
Wait! She’ll outlaw fossil fuels
And I can't drive or fly mules ~
Is it too late to rescind my vote yet?
Like ghosts in my pockets, weighing me down,
burdens echoing with quiet sorrow,
coiling tight around the soul in silent pain.
Some weights like umbrellas cast aside after storms,
others iron shackles, rusted, locked in permanence—
all carried unseen, but deeply felt.
Knots in the spine, scars engraved on the mind,
tangled threads, riotous roots of clinging shadows—
held tight, wrapped in sorrow and guilt.
The weight of unspoken words,
unfinished tasks, unkept promises,
and unmanageable memories—
all soaked deep in regret.
Letting go is not an option
when remorse is all you have,
and anguish your only friend.
In the ashes of silence spent,
cinders glow, tattooing the scene.
Even when I look away
the after-glow is still there,
with scars of burns that won't heal.
The after-glow sears into the days ahead
with a red-hot branding iron
scorching the future
with cries of regret,
and the aftermath
of lies unforgotten,
errors unforgiven.
I close the door,
close my eyes
but the smoke knows the cracks,
knows the way to stain
my eyelids with
embers glowing
bright orange-red.
After-embers that haunt
my sleep, memories and dreams
with flickers, sparkles and taunts.
The afters glowed in the rafters
above my bed.
After the door slammed shut.
After your departing shouts.
After your last goodbyes.
After the raging fire,
you started and stoked,
to roaring fierce flames,
and black billowing smoke,
rendered all what we had,
to gray and white ashes.
With our futures branded
with the afters
in which the embers glowed.
In times of impending demise, you might see your life being replayed across your mind. Sometimes it’s in fast forward, sometimes in slow motion, sometimes both at once. Life flashes in random order, constantly cycling in and out like an out of control tilt-a-whirl at the county fair. You’d think that with all those moments stuck on a playback loop that one would walk away with perfect recall of all the events. Not true. You can remember things like the first time you pooped in your diaper and that piece of Bazooka Joe bubble gum you pocketed when you were ten years old. Every detail, no matter how small or insignificant will come flooding back. But what the heck just went down, draws a complete blank.
when death feels certain,
life flashes by in seconds—
don’t regret the show
Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these ‘it might have been’—John Greenleaf Whittier
without deep regret
apologetic parrot ~
squawks m
i n d racked a
n
g
u i s h
Registered voices polled
election tide Red
getting their collective way.
Reaping, now what they sowed.
Excited delirium mandated
targets, tariff topping. Tempted
serendipity. Look at you now
Exhausted played out past the point of no return
and yet while I have breath there's a will
and still the fire within shall burn
but what with all the crooks connivers
cheats con men shuckers and jivers
it's a wonder such a sensitive soul as I
is here now and how quite aliver
tho' neither nor big or small
nothing at all is made to last
as day by day we waste away
and it feels like I'm fading fast
when looking back before lights out
with but one life to spend
lived its span on my terms to the candle's bitter end
and I know when it's time to go all will be as it should
there'll be no regrets along the lines of
if only I'd done it when I could
Consider wiser not emotion
We don't need to go back
After separation has done
Nothing to feel pawn again
Feeling sorry will fix all
Need new goals to follow
Stock trust not to wander
Return hug who mend your heart.
They say life slips through our fingers,
but I think it slips through our toes,
for you never know the day you might...
wrong a right
dye your hair green
out of spite
or even take the plunge
into death's dreaded depths and...
Go
And when you do,
you might think of all the things
you didn't do -
all the places you never walked,
but more particularly,
those whose shoes you never walked in,
and walked over their hearts instead,
yes, I think it's our toes that life slips through
after all
one last heartstring pulled
i linger but not for long
when i turn to go my way
i let go of yesterday's dreams
leaving all regrets behind
~ i leave it all behind me
today's the day i turn
and walk towards tomorrow
AP: 3rd place 2025, Honorable Mention 2025
Sometimes I fail,
Sometimes I rot.
Sometimes the weight consumes me,
Sometimes it’s just a dot.
I've found the courage to give up,
But never the strength to ask why.
Sometimes I know the truth too well,
Yet sometimes—I lie.
Sometimes the path is clear,
Sometimes it’s all undone.
Sometimes I try to speak,
But the words choke on my tongue.
Words are meant to be spoken,
Let loose into the air.
Sometimes failure lingers,
Sometimes victory’s near,
Yet failure clings to its place,
A shadow steeped in fear.
Sometimes it keeps him pinned,
Sometimes stuck on a dot.
Sometimes he chases that boy,
Yet somehow—he’s the one who’s caught
... writtenbysall
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